


Sin-Bearer

by FreshBrains



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Community: rounds_of_kink, F/F, Objectification, Pregnancy Kink, Religion, Sexuality Crisis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-09
Updated: 2014-10-09
Packaged: 2018-02-20 12:11:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2428226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshBrains/pseuds/FreshBrains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nobody could ever accuse Gracie of not knowing her Bible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sin-Bearer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [never_fadeout](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=never_fadeout).



> For the Rounds of Kink 24 prompt: Gracie/Helena, objectification, Helena's not a real person, so it doesn't count.

Nobody could ever accuse Gracie of not knowing her Bible.  It was the only book she was allowed as a small child; the well-worn pages of her leather-bound book were soft as butter beneath her fingertips from years of turning them under the sheets with a light-bulb after lights-out.  She had whole passages memorized, whole books—it was the only thing she allowed herself to be proud of.

“I liked the mass more than the words,” Helena said from across the room.  She lay on her stomach on the bed, legs drawn up.  “They sound better than they look.”

Gracie didn’t look up at Helena; she kept her eyes trained on the yellowed pages and the tiny black print like ants.  Her eyes strained, but they couldn’t afford glasses.

Helena sat up, sitting cross-legged on the bed.  Her stomach was still flat beneath her tee shirt—the baby wouldn’t show for months.  But Gracie found herself looking at the strangest times.  “They told me how the Bible says I am special, that I am the first.  But they lied.”

“The Bible never lies,” Gracie said automatically, a sliver of ice running down her spine.  “God’s word is truth.”

“God never said anything about putting babies in red-haired girls,” Helena said dryly, mouth quirked into an odd smile.  “ _That_ was your father.”  She leaned back on the bed, smoothing her hands down her stomach.

Gracie swallowed hard, the sight of Helena’s lithe, thin body more interesting than the tiny words.  “Hagar bore a child for Sarah and Abraham.”

Helena scoffed.  “And see how well that turned out.”

Gracie closed her Bible gently, placing it on the battered writing desk between their beds.  She stood, letting her skirts settle around her legs.  “But then Sarah bore Isaac and he became a great leader.”

“Bore,” Helena said, weighing the word carefully on her tongue.  “They bore the babies.  Bore them like pigs in the mud.”  She lifted her tank top and looked down at her stomach, and a wild thrill went up Helena’s spine when she saw that there was definitely a lump there, something convex coming from the soft skin of Helena’s stomach.  “I do not _bore_ the babies, I love them.”

Gracie sat down on Helena’s bed.  “But you’re the vessel.”

Helena was quiet, still looking at your stomach.  “So are you, then.”

_But I will be a_ mother, Gracie wanted to scream.  _I will love these children and you will be face-down in the field for the crows to find once the child has been born._ “Let me feel?”  She held out her hand over Helena’s stomach, feeling the warmth radiate from her skin.  “The baby is my blood, remember?”

Helena shrugged.  “I am told it will be yours soon enough, anyways.”

Gracie pressed her hand against Helena’s body and felt—there was nothing to feel, not really, only a bit of firmness where Gracie still only had baby fat.  But it was _fascinating_ to Gracie, that a child born of God’s will was wrapped in a cocoon on monstrosity, that a miracle could be born of something so foul as a lab experiment.  She scraped her fingernails gently against Helena’s stomach; Helena didn’t flinch.

Helena took Gracie’s hand in her own, her fingers dry and rough.  Gracie tried to pull away but was no match for Helena’s grasp.  “You look at me like I will eat you up.”  She tilted her head like a cat going in for the mouse.  “Do you want that?”

Gracie felt fire race across her cheeks and she snatched her hand away.  “No, don’t be crass.”  But it wasn’t the _same_ with Helena, those feelings—she wanted to touch, to taste, to feel the miracle of life inside of her.  Helena was unnatural and wrong, she was _exciting_. 

Gracie read her Bible, and in no place did it say anything about not-women, or about relations with not-women.  In no place did it tell her to stay away.

Helena leaned in, lips only inches away from Gracie’s.  “Do you want to touch me more?”

Gracie nodded, letting her fingers slide towards the waistband of Helena’s pajama pants.  _Will she feel different from me?  Will she feel_ new _?_ She stopped, clenching her fist.  “Stay away from me,” she snapped.

Helena laughed, loud and rude.  “You’re on _my_ bed, little girl.”

Gracie stood and stalked back to her bed.  She left her Bible on the shelf.  That night, when Helena breathed deeply in her sleep, Gracie slid her hand into her underwear and pressed against the spot that made her gasp out into the dark, but she didn’t imagine Helena touching her—it was more of an entity, a feeling, the idea of something nobody had felt before.


End file.
